


Avoidance

by XVII



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Biting, Cum Play, Exhibitionism, Fingering, Hair Pulling, Infidelity, Light Somnophilia, M/M, Mirrors, Oral, age gap, dad's friend, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XVII/pseuds/XVII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had no idea how long Mads would be staying with them, but he just hoped his imagination and bank account would be able to last that long.  Because it was absolutely wiser to avoid him than to risk giving himself away. For all that he was an actor, this wasn’t the right setting for it, and he could only act so far; tenting pants would tell stories that facial control couldn’t erase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avoidance

Bill is seventeen. Has been for a few months now— long enough to be old enough to be called upon to help his father when he comes home, staggering from his drinks, and dragging an extra body with him.

Mads is a friend of the family. They’ve done big dinners with some members of both families present, and his dad and Mads had done a few projects together, starting with King Arthur.  Bill knew that, for a while, the women of the families had conspired to try and pair him off with Viola, Mads’s daughter, before it turned out his tastes leaned very much in the opposite direction. They’d given it up without any real objection, though, which was for the best. The girl was gorgeous; even gay, he was intimidated. He could only imagine if he was straight. Besides… even if she had been a guy, she’d be young for his tastes.

 But it had been a while since he’d seen those folk; they weren’t always the closest people, moving as Mads got work, and likewise, with his dad gone as often as he had to be for his own work, it was hard to coordinate. Not that the women weren’t close, they just were no where near so close as the men were.

Which had worked out for the best when Mads showed up a few days ago, drunk and upset, saying that he and Hanne had quarreled. Something about Carl wetting the bed, or something, which had spiraled into a full out argument. Bill hadn’t gotten the full story before he’d been sent away, like the child he wasn’t any longer.

This wasn’t exactly a localized event, though. His parents still hadn’t come to terms with his adulthood. He’d been working for a while now to get them to see it, even going so far as to take intentionally adult roles to act in.

But now he took a drunken Mads off of his father’s hands and told him to go to bed, then helped Mads into the guest room.  It was easy to get his shoes off, to help remove the jeans and strip him of his coat. He tried not to let his hands shake, tried to put himself in the mindset of a caretaker or a nurse. But Mads was well built… he used to be a dancer, a gymnast… it showed, Bill thought. Mads had been boisterous when they first came through the door, the echoes of some drinking song only dying on his lips at Bill’s insistence that he not wake the rest of the house, but now he was silent, intense and observant. Bill felt his face growing hot, realizing that he had been watching him admire his body. When he spoke, it was a little too loud for the quiet of the night.

“Get yourself in bed, Mads. I’m going to go get you some water, and then you can sleep it off. Things will look better in the morning.” Mads full out snorted at that, and the moment of intense scrutiny felt broken.

Bill retreated, feeling more like he was fleeing. He wondered at the heat he felt. Was he just embarrassed at the attention? It didn’t seem likely; he was a performer. But his eyes had lingered and he felt sure that Mads saw, that Mads knew. What must he think of him for it? They both knew that he was married, that he had kids not much younger than Bill.

He shrugged it off and returned with the glass of water he’d promised. Mads was already asleep when he brought it back, though, and he sighed a bit fondly.

This was the man who had been glad to play with the kids when he came to visit, video games or rough housing or dice or cards—he’d used to ruffle his hair and bring gifts when he came.

Times may be rough for him at home, but he was still… almost an uncle to Bill. But only almost.

He left the glass on the nightstand and returned with a couple of asprin. He had a feeling that Mads would want them, and, what’s more, that he wouldn’t wake up to drink even if Bill tried.

The thought gave him pause, and He found himself glancing back over his shoulder, his face screwed up in consideration.

Mads had managed to pass out on top of the blankets, and he had one arm sort of rolled under himself, in a way that looked distinctly uncomfortable, and like he might wake up with a case of serious pins and needles.

It wouldn’t hurt to help lay him out a bit, make him comfortable. Bill wasn’t the most muscle bound guy, but he was strong enough for this, at least.

He tried shaking Mads gently; just on the off chance he was the only drunk in the world who was also a light sleeper. No such luck.  So he rolled him onto his side, pinning him between his thighs and his arm, so that he could rescue Mads’s other arm from a sure lack of blood flow.

He looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirrored closet door. From here, where he was standing and where Mads’s body was, how much it looked like Mads was blowing him.

The thought made him warm, and he quickly dropped Mads back onto his back and left him there, moving to pull the covers out from under him, work the blankets out from under his mass, and then pull them back up over him, up to his chin.

Mads made some sort of muttering sound in his sleep, and Bill froze. But as he watched, Mads settled, licking his lips before stilling.

Boldly, Bill pressed the pad of his forefinger against the shine that even the lamplight made far too enticing. He swiped across the lower lip, then repeated the motion with his thumb, wishing he was just brave enough to kiss the man. Instead, he dipped his thumb in, through the unresisting teeth that parted far too easily, and rubbed it over his wet, velvety tongue. He imagined that moving over his dick, and shuddered, reminding himself how fucking wrong that was, how disgusting he was for even thinking that way.  He smoothed his thumb up across Mads’s cheekbone, then stroked his wild hair flat, before turning and leaving, lest he get carried away. Before he trespassed any farther than he had already.

In his bed, he lay awake, the mental image of Mads’s mouth around his thumb becoming one of Mads on his knees, those ridiculous, trouble making brown eyes open and looking up at him, while he took Bill in, made his knees shake…

Bill stroked himself with his whole fist, wishing he could approximate the sensation a  little better, while at the same time hating himself for this. He swore he could feel the warmth of Mads’s body against his thighs, still, and he was tempted to go back downstairs, to wrap Mads’s limp hand around himself, and use him to finish. Or to offer the head of him to that eager to please mouth of his, and slowly work up until he couldn’t hold back any longer, and slid down his throat. He imagined flipping the tables, moving aside the blankets that his mother cleaned, and pressing chaste kisses to Mads’s chest and stomach, completely innocent pecks right up until he met his pelvic bone, and then swallowing him down.

Bill wasn’t at all experienced, but he imagined himself learning quickly. He imagined Mads waking up and being a wonderful instructor.

He had a good imagination, and in his mind he heard Mads telling him how good he was, such a good boy, and that was it. That was all he needed. He was done.

He fell asleep with Mads’s name on his lips and a sort of sexual fantasy obsession forming behind his eyes.  He was so fucked up. And also just plain fucked.

-*-

The next day was awkward, mostly for him, though everyone else seemed oblivious. He made more of a point of avoiding Mads, just to avoid the guilty feelings that rose every time he looked at him. At breakfast, his dad called him out for being twitchy and he tried to play like it was nothing, but Mads noticed. He knew Mads noticed. He caught him staring, a little wrinkle between his brows.

He ran off as soon as he could, citing errands he needed to run.

Which translated to hanging out under the railway bridge near his house and trying to sort through muddled emotions. He knew most of it was just hormones, or at least he thought so. Hoped so. They would go away. He was just a horny kid and there was an attractive guy staying with them that he wasn’t related to. It made sense.

And he _was_ attractive. While pointedly _not_ looking at him during breakfast that morning, he’d seen more than his fair share of his hands, big and warm looking, with their blunt ends and the way he moved them when he spoke, all but caressing the air to demonstrate a point. He’d shivered, imagining those same fingers dragging over his thighs, down his sides—tightening on his hips to pull him down onto…

He’d excused himself, and now he was stuck wandering around the mall. Which was fine, he supposed; he did need some new shirts.

A few hours later, though, he was at a loss as to what to do. He saw a film, missed dinner, ate out, and got home just in time to tell everyone goodnight and head to bed.

He had no idea how long Mads would be staying with them, but he just hoped his imagination and bank account would be able to last that long.  Because it was absolutely wiser to avoid him than to risk giving himself away. For all that he was an actor, this wasn’t the right setting for it, and he could only act so far; tenting pants would tell stories that facial control couldn’t erase.

But he should have known that, like with everything else, balance was important. Mads wasn’t an idiot.

And so he found himself stopped on the way out of the house a few days later, as part of his routine of disappearing from morning to dusk. Mads was leaning nonchalantly against the wall near the front door, and he had been looking down at his phone as he approached, so Bill didn’t notice until he was nearly upon the older man.

He swung his head, searching wildly for an escape route, and Mads looked hesitant, but asked anyway.

“Can we talk?” Even his voice was unsure, but Bill was in full on panic, so he blurted out the first answer that came to mind, and waved his phone for proof.

“Can’t. Sorry. I’m late.” He pushed past and out the door, and looked over his shoulder when he closed it behind him.

The crestfallen look when he closed the door in Mads’s face followed him for the rest of the day, making his guilt double. It wasn’t Mads’s fault.

But he thought that would be it; Mads left him alone that night and all of the next two days. He thought maybe the worst was over. With a little distance and a little time, the sound of his voice would no longer raise gooseflesh on the back of his neck.

So of course, when Mads approached him next, he did so at the only place and time that Bill was guaranteed to be there, and not have an excuse to leave.

Bill opened the door to his room to find it dark, just the way it ought to be. The sun had set hours prior, and he had started coming home just in time for a shower and bed. He’d already showered, and was wearing a towel, his clothes for the day in a bundle in front of him.

He closed his bedroom door, and jumped when his desk lamp turned on.

He muffled his startled sound when he saw that it was just Mads.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, this time his voice laced with the frustration he really felt. His feelings of guilt were temporarily forgotten in light of his pounding heart and surging adrenaline.

“I’m sorry. I know teenagers are particular about their spaces, but it was the only way I could think of to be able to talk to you.” He looked hurt, saying it, and Bill was reminded yet again of Mads’s children, not much younger than him. All the more reason this conversation shouldn’t be happening. Especially not with him dripping and wearing nothing but a towel. He gripped at his waist defensively, to keep it from slipping unexpectedly. Because that was the last thing he needed tonight.

“And?” He asked pointedly, willing Mads to speak his piece and leave, half hoping he would just condemn him for being a horny little boy. It would make it easier to stop wanting him.

“I’m already in trouble with the person I care the most deeply about in the world, as you know. That’s why I’m here. But I guess I seem to have upset you somehow, and all I know is that you put me to bed when I was drunk, and since then it’s been impossible to see hide or hair of you. So I just… will you tell me what I did? I can only assume…” He sounded so guilty and lost and… honestly afraid of what Bill would say that Bill couldn’t help but take pity. He sat his clothes down on his bed and spoke with his back to him.

“You didn’t do anything.” He tried to keep his voice even, but he was sure it wavered.

Mads let out a rough breath.

“I hope it was… nothing inappropriate.”  He sounded strained, and Bill spun, almost angry that he could believe himself capable of such things.

“I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t want you finding out about me and realizing that I’m an awful human being. You. Didn’t. Do. Anything.”

“What do you mean—Bill. Because you’re gay? You aren’t awful, that doesn’t make you awful. If Carl were to decide—I only hope he would be as brave as you were, in telling your family. But you mustn’t feel… did you think I didn’t know, and would think less of you if I did?”

“No! No, that isn’t.” Bill cut himself off roughly, not wanting to give anymore away and already certain that he had said far too much. He folded his arms over his chest and turned his face away without moving his body.

Mads let the silence stretch for a moment, then stood.

“I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I… if you want me to leave, I can go to a hotel, or travel to my brother’s home, perhaps. I don’t want you to avoid your own home any more because of me.”

“Don’t.” Bill sounded just as miserable as Mads clearly felt. “It isn’t that, alright? I’m gay, you’re my type, I just didn’t want things getting… awkward.” He shrugged helplessly. “Clearly, that didn’t work out so well.”

“Your… type.” Mads spoke slowly, like he was confused. Like he didn’t understand. Bill rolled his eyes.

“You know what, I can’t have this conversation with you right now. I’ve been doing nothing but thinking about you since you got here, I’m dripping and naked and you’re in my room, and yeah, I’m a dumb teenager whose brain keeps urging him to jump your bones. So if you want to maybe go back to the guest room, that would be… great…” He trailed off as Mads stepped closer to him, and he felt his own breath bounce off Mads’s shoulder and come back to him, while he looked up at the man who had become the subject of every jerk off fantasy he had.

“I thought I had said something to you, touched you in ways no man should touch a boy, because you’re beautiful and I was drunk. And now you tell me you almost wish I had.” Mads’s voice was rough, oddly wistful. Like he knew this wouldn’t happen. That it couldn’t.

They both did, Bill supposed. But that didn’t stop him from pushing his face into the hand that Mads had raised, into the fingers running gently across his cheek. Didn’t stop him from turning his head to suck his index finger into his mouth. He looked up from beneath his lashes while he laved at Mads’s finger with his tongue, suggesting everything he’d love to be doing to his cock just then. Mads held the eye contact and let out a groaned

“Christ.”

Bill closed his mouth over Mads’s finger and applied suction, but let it go with a slight pop when Mads pulled it away.

His eyes instantly filled with the regret he’d known he would feel, but it was swept away in the perfect heat of Mads’s lips on his. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, at least somewhat experienced on this front, if not much further. He’d kissed girls for short films, for plays… even a guy, already. But not a man. Not like this. He’d never had a kiss with intent before, and he could feel his body reacting to it. His nipples had gone hard and so had his dick, until he had to break off the kiss, had to wait for Mads to pull his tongue away from the roof of Bill’s mouth, before he could try and knot the towel better.

But Mads stopped him.

“This is a bad idea.” He warned him, even as his hands pulled the towel open and his eyes slid down Bill’s body like another drop of water. Bill shivered under his gaze.

“Can’t be all that bad.” Bill murmured, as though it was some sort of valid argument, some sort of comfort.

“You’re my friend’s youngest son. I’m a guest under your parents’ roof. I’m married.” He let the towel slump onto the floor behind Bill’s feet, and moved his hands to wrap around Bill’s hips, letting his thumbs trace the creases downwards from there.

“I’m adult. My parents like you. You’re estranged from your wife for now.” He pointed out, proud that he was able to form words, much less valid points to contradict Mads’s.

“You’re of age with an adult, but you’re still young. So young. Too young for me.” Mads came back, and Bill took hold of Mads’s wrists.

“I’m a virgin, but I don’t want to be. I film a short about fucking a girl up the ass in a week and a half. Show me how. Show me what that feels like.” He knew his voice sounded low, desperate and serious and hushed. His parents were just down the hall.

Mads’s mouth dropped open, and Bill let his hands move to Mads’s hair, pulling at it, running his fingers through it. It was still tied back on the top, and he pulled the band out, letting his hair slump into his eyes. He wound his fingers in it and tugged, making a low groan drop from Mads’s lips.

Mads dropped gracefully to his knees, years of dancing going into the movements and making them fluid and near silent while he leaned in and pressed his lips to Bill’s stomach. He licked along the smooth, flat plane there and into Bill’s belly button, and Bill responded by pushing his hair back, pulling his face in closer to him.

Mads took the hint and slid lower, laving his tongue down the length of Bill’s dick and turning his head like he meant to kiss it. Instead, he cradled it between his lips and began dragging himself along it, jerking it off with his mouth without really taking him inside of him.

Bill loosed a whine and Mads changed that, used his hands to get it angled right, and took a deep breath before all but impaling his throat on Bill’s cock.

“Jesus fuck.” Bill murmured, still trying to keep his voice down. His hips bucked a little and Mads didn’t seem to mind, putting his hands behind Bill’s ass to urge him in deeper. He withdrew just a bit and inhaled noisily through his nose, then leaned in again, swallowing Bill nearly to the root.  

“How do you—why do you.” Bill was shaking, his thigh muscles performing some complicated dance that he didn’t know he knew, and Mads slid back only to pull Bill’s pelvis fully against his nose. Bill let out a garbled string of vowels, and Mads laughed around him.

Bill snapped his hips forward, almost in response, and Mads’s vibrations from his laughter turned longer, lower, a droning moan. Experimentally, Bill did it again. Mads pulled off entirely, and Bill’s first reaction was to apologize, but Mads swallowed and spoke in a voice now roughened by the recent use of his throat.

“I want you to fuck my face.” The order was given with a cracked voice, but even eyes, and his words shot straight to Bill’s groin through his stomach, leaving a trail of heat and confidence he didn’t have in these matters.

He grabbed Mads by the sides of his head and stepped over him, pulling and twisting and nudging Mads along until his back was against the side of Bill’s mattress. He ran his fingers through the loose strands of hair over his forehead, and took a fistful, using it to tilt his head back.

Mads shut his eyes and took a deep breath, then dropped his mouth open. Bill lined himself back up and did as Mads had asked, thrusting in deeply and smoothly. He paused to check that Mads was okay, only to feel his fingers digging into his ass, urging him forward and faster.

Bill gave up with abandon and bore down on Mads, pressing the back of his head against the mattress and shifting forward more so that he was thrusting almost directly downwards, the position more natural and granting him far more leverage. He reached down to press shaking fingers to Mads’s throat, feeling himself through the thin skin there. Mads keened quietly and Bill was suddenly aware again of their noise levels.

He thought of his parents, imagined his father getting up to get a drink or use the restroom, his footsteps faltering in the middle of the hallway at the wet sound of Bill sliding in and out between Mads’s unresisting lips, the occasional gargle as Mads’s gag reflex tried again and again to work and had to be fought down, and Bill’s answering gasps at the waves of constriction that came when Mads swallowed around him.

He imagined his brother looking in through the keyhole or a crack in the door, watching as Bill shifted his weight forward onto the bed and cut off Mads’s air with the weight of his body. Imagined him pulling himself out to stroke his erection while he watched. Imagined his father finding them all like that. The thought made him dizzy and he opened his eyes, only to find himself face to face with his closet mirror, reflecting back at him the lewd sight of his cock disappearing into Mads’s mouth. And when he raised himself up, changing the angle to better see where their joined, Mads’s blinked and they locked eyes in the reflection.

A tremble ran through him and Mads pressed at Bill’s thighs, urging him back so that he could get a breath.

Bill disengaged, crawling up and over and turning to face him.

Mads was panting, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down saliva and precum, and his hands massaged his throat.

“Did I hurt you?” Bill asked, suddenly afraid again. Mads shook his head no.

“You’re fine. You’re good.” He croaked out, voice showing every sign of his use.

“I’m close.” Bill said, and he felt like he was whining. Mads looked startled, then smirked and rolled over, climbing onto the bed as well and pushing the younger man backwards.

“You want to come?” He teased, his words tinted with a smooth roughness, a voice like whiskey. His eyes, his face… it was playful, so much younger looking than when they had begun this, so much more open and relaxed. Bill felt his heart rise into his throat. He couldn’t talk, so he just nodded in the affirmative.

“Hmm.” Mads grumbled. He wrapped his hand around and began jerking Bill, who whimpered and cringed at the dryness, his saliva having already started evaporating.

From above, Mads offered Bill his palm. Bill hesitantly put out his tongue and licked it, then withdrew and pooled saliva into his mouth and transferred that to Mads’s palm, halfway torn between holding his hand there to lave attention on it, and wanting it to return to the part of him that was demanding attention. His dick won.

“Good boy.” Mads rumbled, and wrapped back around him, stroking and pulling him with the ease of years of experience. Bill shuddered and had to bite down on his fist to keep the sound down as he began to cum, and it became twice as challenging when Mads caught the head of him in his mouth and lapped at his slit between spurts, interspersed with laze pumps to his sensitive shaft. He seemed set on coaxing as much out of him as humanly possible.

When it finally stopped, Bill collapsed backwards, feeling boneless and drained.

Mads rocked back and just looked down at him, uncharacteristically silent.

“Is…” Bill started, forcing himself to sit up through the haze, but Mads surged forward, claiming his lips and prying his mouth open with his tongue.

Bitter salt flooded his mouth, and he nearly pulled away until he realized that Mads was feeding him his own cum. He nearly choked trying to vocalize the pleasure that came with it.

“Don’t swallow just yet. I want that back in a moment.” Despite the nonsensical tone of the statement, Bill found himself nodding in agreement. He’d never found it so hard for his throat not to open, though.

“Lube, condoms?” Mads asked, and Bill’s eyes widened and he shook his head and tapped the desk drawer, communicating as best as he could with a mouth full of semen.

Mads found the lube, and rifled casually through the rest of the drawer’s contents before looking back to Bill questioningly.

Bill shook his head no again, and Mads sighed.

“Fix that. I won’t have you getting sick just because you’re young and embarrassed to buy things.” Bill could only nod.

He pulled his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, and withdrew a foil packet, before sitting his wallet on Bill’s desk.

Laying back on his bed, propped up on his elbows, it suddenly struck Bill how on display he was, while Mads was still dressed—sloppily so, his shirt big and loose and his jeans worn, but still. Covered.

He unzipped, clearly intending to simply brush aside his underwear, but Bill shook his head viciously, making Mads grin like a cat with a mouthful of cream. Bill wasn’t immune to the irony.

He came forward again, tugging at the top button of the jeans and lifting the shirt high onto his torso in the process.

Mads chuckled softly and shrugged out of it, dropping it over the back of Bill’s computer chair.

His pants followed, and then his boxers, until he was just as nude as Bill was, and every bit as ready as he had been. The condom was rolled on quickly, deftly, and without ceremony.

“I’ll need that back now. Thanks.” Mads whispered against Bill’s lips, and then sealed their mouths together so as not to lose any of the slick fluid that Bill happily pushed out of his mouth.

“That tastes awful.” He informed Mads archly, and Mads just smirked and tugged at his hips, turning him and sending him sprawling over the bed with his feet still on the floor. Bill felt like he was up for a spanking, and wished they weren’t so involved in being as quiet as possible, or he might just ask for one.

He felt a jolt of surprise at the sudden wetness leaking between his cheeks, and flushed when Mads pulled them apart and spat on him. Those fingers he’d been admiring began stroking, just the thumbs as he held his ass open, but then, after Bill had reached back to assist without having to be asked, Mads rewarded him with a long upwards stroke with the pad of his index finger.

“You’ve heard this will hurt, I’m sure. But I won’t let it, as much as I can. Do you believe me.”

Bill hummed his assent, and Mads pinched his ass, making him bury a yelp in his comforter.

“Yes!” he gasped, indignant and aroused.

“Better.”

Mads began stroking his cum into his asshole, a tiny bit of his finger at a time feeding Bill’s own seed into him. It was an odd sensation, made odder as Mads managed to get in past the first knuckle, and then it seemed easy, the inward slide. Bill figured that was it; Mads was through. That didn’t hurt at all. He rocked his hips back and forth, eagerly dragging his cock against his bedding in the process, but stilled, confused, when Mads pressed his free hand to Bill’s lower back.

Wordlessly, he uncapped the lube and spilled some over where his hand joined Bill’s body. Bill shivered, and Mads made a soft shushing noise, rubbing small circles into his back while he began pressing the second finger in.

This came with a stretch, a sort of low burn that seemed tied to his stomach, and he bit down n his blankets, wanting but uncomfortable, but unwilling to stop.

Mads moved slowly, irritatingly slowly, and finally Bill took the initiative and tilted his hips before sliding himself backwards, pushing that second finger all the way in beside the first, and causing them to hit something that made his spine stiffen and his cock harden almost instantly. The discomfort was all but forgotten in this sudden wave of abject pleasure.

Mads let out another low chuckle and began working his fingers, searching for the spot that had caused that reaction in Bill. He knew when he found it, because Bill actually whimpered and thrashed, and he had to nearly pull his fingers all the way out in threat when Bill’s muscles fluttered around them.

“I can only imagine,” Mads spoke softly and bent forward, so he could be quiet but still heard, directly into his ear. “How tight you will be when I get inside of you. How warm, how inviting… You’re so greedy for this.” He explained, pushing his fingers in and rotating them, so that they just barely clipped that spot. “So hungry for more.” Bill humped backwards and forwards, not sure whether to try and get more pressure on his prostate or to apply friction to his cock. There was a lot going on and he was starting to be overwhelmed. He was glad Mads couldn’t see him right now, couldn’t see all the expressions flashing over his face.

“I’m going to put one more finger inside of you…” Mads crooned, and Bill let out a low moan, which Mads spoke over. “And then I am going to fuck you.”

Mads took hold of the nape of Bill’s neck and used the grip for leverage, as he plunged his two fingers deeply in and out of him a few more times, before adding in the tip of the third.

Despite his aggressive words, he was gentle, and Bill wondered if he was remembering meeting him for the first time, the way Mads had played ball with him and the other kids, or the way he had helped to carry them in to bed when they had gotten exhausted and fallen asleep in the den after dinner. Every ounce of care he’d ever shown Bill as a smaller boy was pushing in and out of him at a torturous, agonizingly pleasurable pace.

When all three fingers were fully seated inside of him, Bill spat out his mouthful of downy blankets and carefully formed the words he needed to get out a few times, before giving voice to them.

“Please Mads.” He repeated it silently, his lips moving over the words as if in prayer. ‘please Mads, please. Please please please, Mads, please.’

Mads rotated the fingers within him and spread them out, stretching and touching and trying to be sure, before he withdrew them completely. Bill made a little moue of upset, then gasped in air when he felt the warm, slick, blunt, rubbered head of Mads’s cock at his entrance.

Mads leaned forward and slid his hand over Bill’s mouth, reminding him to keep quiet, and began thrusting into him.

Bill clasped his hands over the top of Mads’s and held on, feeling Mads digging into his hip while he slid deeper.

It was so much, so much of a stretch, and the burn had returned, but no worse than before. It didn’t hurt though, not really, despite his impatience, Mads had been true to his word. Bill stared into his mirror, watched Mads’s chest rising and falling as he carefully began moving inside of him.

It was surreal, watching it and feeling it, being part of it and yet other. He gripped tight to Mads’s hand, not out of pain, but because he didn’t ever want him to let go. He tilted his hips up and down, encouraging Mads and coaxing a choked off sound from somewhere in his throat when Mads’s cock struck the bundle of nerves that his fingers had so delighted in teasing earlier.

“So tight, so hot, like I knew you would be.” Mads told him, jerking forwards and laying some of his weight along Bill’s back.

Bill hummed into their hands and bore down on the cock inside of him, demanding more.

“And just as hungry.” Mads informed him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” He began pressing in faster, though his strokes became more shallow to compensate. And every few, he made sure to tilt his hips, or slide in a certain way—whatever he did, it made sure to strike Bill’s prostate, and send his cock crashing down into the bed below them. He bit into Mads’s hand, licking the pucker of skin that pushed between his teeth and appreciating the groan that followed his actions.

Bill could hear the soft protests of his mattress rubbing the bedframe, and was glad that the wood wasn’t striking the walls. He wondered what it would be like to be with Mads somewhere else, where they could be loud, and rough and fast, could move until their skins slapping against one another echoed over the walls.

He wondered if he could get the rest of the family out of the house for some reason, soon.

And then he didn’t wonder anything at all, as Mads took his hand away from Bill’s mouth and curled it around his renewed erection instead.

He stroked them together to their respective ends, Bill tumbling over the edge first and the increased tightness caused by his orgasm pulling Mads in after him.

Mads collapsed on top of the younger boy and lay there for a few minutes while his breathing evened out. He played with the hair at the base of Bill’s skull, then finally sighed and pulled his softening dick out, the feeling markedly stranger than the process of putting it in had been, for Bill.

“I won’t regret this.” Bill said, not entirely cohesive enough to be speaking yet but feeling like her should say something. “You were my first, and I won’t regret it and… I’d appreciate if you didn’t either.”

Mads stared at him, eyes never wavering even as he pulled his pants back on, and a creeping sort of sadness overtook his face.

“I’m married, and old enough to be your father.” He reminded Bill, and Bill stood.

“Neither of those things is my fault. And speaking of being married, how do you—do you even--” He didn’t know what he was trying to ask. It was something to do with sexuality, how he knew all of this, how he had no gag reflex to speak of and how many men he’d been with.

“I’ve had time.” Was all the answer he got, and he would have fumed if Mads didn’t lean in to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Well I have plenty of catching up to do, it seems.” Bill said, hoping that he would take it as the invitation that it was.

Mads looked wary. He turned away and pulled his shirt on over his head, pocketed his wallet, and considered. Bill felt a cold hand grip below his ribcage, sure he would hear that this had only been the one time, that now he would have to try and put Mads out of his mind, think of him as nothing but a friend. Mads seemed to read his fears on his face, and came to a decision.

“Let me come to you. Your father cannot know—I value his and you mother’s friendship too much. And Bill?”

“Mm?” he asked, a drowsy sort of satisfaction filling him at the thought of being allowed to do this again.

“Please don’t avoid me any more.” Mads said.

“Of course.” Bill agreed. Mads gave him one of his sharp toothed little grins, and snuck out into the hall, shutting his door softly behind him.


End file.
